


Hold On (We'll Be There)

by Lazy8



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [25]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Finger Whump, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hypothermia, Mutilation, Muzzles, New Ozai Society, Post-Canon, References The Search, Restraints, Torture, Zuko (Avatar) whump, child endangerment, non-consensual drugging, passing out from pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/pseuds/Lazy8
Summary: Zuko's made a lot of enemies during his reign. Unfortunately for him, he falls into their hands.
Relationships: Kiyi & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846456
Comments: 17
Kudos: 133
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Hold On (We'll Be There)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Passing Out from Pain  
>  **Hurt Character:** Zuko  
>  **Comforting Character(s):** Toph

The New Ozai Society had been trying to take him down for _years_. It was only to be expected that they'd eventually get desperate.

He shouldn't even have been surprised that they'd resorted to such a dirty trick—after all, it was far from the _first_ time they'd decided to target his family in order to get to him.

"Somehow I didn't think that even _you_ could sink this low." Zuko was in a fighting stance, his mouth twisted into a snarl, his arm drawn back as if ready to strike even though he did not dare to actually _do_ so: not while the man in front of him held Kiyi clutched to his chest, a knife pressed against her throat.

"DON'T DO WHAT HE SAYS, ZUZU! LET ME G—"

" _You_ would do well to learn some manners, brat." The man pressed his knife a little harder, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Kiyi let out a whimper. Zuko snarled and clenched his fists, but could do nothing without endangering her. "Now, are you going to hear our demands, or not?"

It was necessary to speak through gritted teeth, but somehow, he still managed to get the words out. "I'm listening."

Never taking his eyes off of Zuko, the man holding Kiyi nodded. One of his subordinates tossed something lightly in Zuko's direction, and he caught it on reflex: a small flask, with some sort of liquid sloshing around inside.

"Drink that. _All_ of it." Zuko hesitated. "My patience is limited, impostor, and I don't have to make this quick. This peasant girl is worth nothing to us. I could put out her eye or slice her ear into ribbons just as easily as I could slit her throat… and I _will_ slit her throat if you try to interfere. Or would you rather we make the family resemblance a little more… _prominent?_ " One of the other men held up a handful of flames, which he held threateningly close to Kiyi's face—not _quite_ close enough to burn, but the whimper she let out said that she _did_ feel the heat.

It was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted to do, but this time, he really did have no choice—it was him against at least a dozen armed rebels, one of whom was holding his baby sister at knifepoint and would not hesitate to torture or kill her if he didn't cooperate. "You _will_ pay for this," Zuko snarled as he aggressively uncorked the flask, and then downed the whole thing in one long swallow.

He'd _meant_ that threat, too—but unfortunately, he didn't think he'd be able to personally follow through on it. Already his limbs were getting heavy, and he could feel himself sinking toward the floor as his vision blurred.

"Think whatever you want, usurper, but this time, it is _you_ who will pay."

The last thing he heard as darkness overtook him was Kiyi screaming his name.

* * *

Upon regaining consciousness, Zuko's first thought was to be surprised that he _had_ woken up.

He'd been _sure_ they had poisoned him. That they would want to get rid of him as quickly as possible, in order to make absolutely sure there was no one left who could challenge their chosen line of succession. As he came more awake, though, he took note of several things:

One, he was cold.

Two, he was missing most of his clothes.

Three, he was sitting in a cold stone chair.

Four, his hands and feet were shackled to the arms and legs of the chair.

Five, there was something strapped to his face, a piece of cold metal forced between his teeth.

Experimentally, he tried to move, and found that he could not do much more than wiggle his fingers. Thanks to the muzzle, he could not even use Breath of Fire to warm himself up without severely burning himself in the process—though his situation looked pretty bad, he wasn't quite _that_ desperate yet. Unable to do anything else, he did his best to think. The fact that they'd left him alive had to mean _something_. There must be something they wanted from him, something that went beyond just his death to make room for their chosen successor, and his current position implied absolutely nothing good about what they planned to do in order to get it. Still, no matter what it was, he absolutely _could not_ give it to them no matter what they did.

Yeah. He was under no illusions that that was going to be _easy_. Nothing ever came easy, for him.

His captors seemed to be taking their sweet time about it, though. While Zuko had no idea how long he sat there in the dark, it was long enough for his stomach to start rumbling and his mouth to go dry. Long enough for him to start shivering uncontrollably and be unable to stop. _More_ than long enough for him to contemplate in detail what they could do to him while they had him in this position, which he thought had probably been the intent. At long last, though, the door opened, and the ringleader stepped in.

On reflex, Zuko attempted to lunge at the man, but only succeeded in jolting himself against his restraints.

The man showed no reaction whatsoever—after all, _he_ was in no danger right now, and knew it. Instead, he only stood there for several minutes, watching Zuko's pathetic attempts to struggle as if examining a squirming bug he'd pinned through with a needle, before he finally spoke.

"The Avatar has forsaken you."

Zuko stilled. Had he been able to speak, he would have asked what that was supposed to mean. Instead, he could only watch, heart quickening, as the man drew a knife with one hand and lit a fire in the other, drawing the blade almost idly through the flame.

Then, without warning, the man grabbed his hand and pressed down on his knuckles until his fingers lay flat against the arm of the chair. Though he did his best to resist, to keep his hand clenched firmly in a fist, the cold and the dehydration had already left him weak, and it was impossible to get any leverage with all of his limbs so firmly pinned. Burning agony flashed through his entire hand as the blade parted skin and then began sawing into the joint that connected his finger to the rest of his hand. A muffled scream tore out of him, right up until he gagged on the pain, and then he found himself floating away from his body as everything went black.

* * *

He woke up to a bucket of cold water being thrown in his face.

He came to with a gasp, to find that he'd been re-positioned: he'd now been forced into a standing position with his arms chained above his head. He was now too cold to even shiver, and though his hand still throbbed, from this angle it was impossible to see if the missing finger was the only damage that had been inflicted.

"How nice of you to join us." The two men standing in front of him were not ones he'd dealt with previously. One was holding the bucket; the other had a metal hook in hand, which he was in the process of heating with a flame just like his _last_ tormentor had been heating the knife. "And let me tell you, I've been waiting a _long time_ for this." He grinned. "I just hope the Avatar keeps holding out on us. Killing you quickly would take all the fun out of it."

The hook dug deep into the muscles of his thigh.

Over the next however-long-this-session-lasted, Zuko's whole world was narrowed down to one thing: pain. He didn't remember what it was like not to be in pain. He didn't remember what it was like not to be in this _room_ , chained up with his whole body prone and no means of defending himself. Several times, he reached a point where he was sure that there was not a single part of him left that didn't hurt, only for his captors to find yet another patch of skin to dig the metal hook into just to prove him wrong. When they finally got bored with that, they started burning him instead, or even just punching or kicking, their blows so frequent and vicious that he thought he'd be lucky if there was a single bone in his body that _wasn't_ broken by the time they finished him off.

…there was no doubt in his mind that they _would_ eventually finish him off. It was just a matter of how long they could manage to drag things out before he succumbed.

Still, Zuko did what he did best: he endured. He took the pain and breathed through it and screamed when he needed to, and when he finally reached his limit and lost consciousness only to be jolted awake by yet another bucket of cold water dumped over his head, he endured some more. At this point, it was the only form of resistance that he had left.

Eventually, they let him down. He didn't even try to get back up again.

* * *

After that, there were other tormentors, other instruments.

A heated knife, carving lines of pain into the most sensitive parts of his body. A burning hand, held against unprotected skin until it reddened and blistered. A blunt club, brought down on bones that answered with a sickening crack. Each time, Zuko would be left absolutely sure that there wasn't a single part of his body left that _wasn't_ in agonizing pain—and each time, they would somehow find a way to prove him wrong.

The absolute worst part was never knowing what they were going to do next.

They did not seem to have a routine, and that was probably deliberate, so he couldn't brace himself in advance. There was no consistency that he could tell—in what time they came in, in how long they tortured him, even in how long they left the room. Once, after they'd left him alone in the dark for a while, Zuko lost consciousness (he didn't think it could actually be called _sleeping_ ) from sheer exhaustion, only to be woken by the crack of a whip coming down across the skin of his unprotected back.

Not a single one of them ever even _attempted_ to ask him any questions.

That would have been pretty difficult anyway, given that the muzzle was never removed. Still, he did not doubt that they had to want _something_. Nobody went to this much trouble just for the fun of it.

…or at least, he _hoped_ that nobody did.

When they cut off the second finger, he was almost too far gone to care.

* * *

The latest tormentor had just walked in, this one bearing a nasty-looking barb. Zuko was doing his best to brace himself for the next wave of pain when the ground began to rumble.

The new man straightened, eyes going wide. Then, he dropped the barb and instead drew a knife, which he pressed to Zuko's throat.

"We warned you about the consequences of attempting a rescue." He didn't seem to be talking to Zuko. Instead, his eyes darted all around the room, and Zuko realized he didn't actually realize where the vibrations were coming from. "Though _he_ won't live to regret—"

That was as far as he got before a rock hit him directly in the face.

The knife went flying. So did the man. No sooner had he hit the wall than he was pinned in place by enough rock cuffs to subdue a komodo rhino. There was blood streaming from his nose, which looked like it had been broken.

"He's going to live as long as I _say_ he gets to live, and _you're_ going to regret messing with the greatest earthbender of all time!"

 _Toph_.

He almost couldn't believe it. By this point, he'd almost given up on the hope of ever seeing any of his friends again. As she freed him from the metal table he'd been strapped to by tearing it to pieces with her bare hands, though, it finally began to seep into his mind: this was real. Toph was here, and she had come to save him.

She frowned when his body made contact with the ground, and when she knelt down to get the muzzle off of him, her hands were shaking so badly that it took her several minutes to undo the straps. Zuko had almost forgotten what it was like _not_ to feel metal between his teeth.

"T-Toph…" His throat and mouth were so dry that his voice came out in a raspy whisper.

"Shush." She reached down to rest a hand over his heart. "Man, they really messed you up, didn't they?" Despite the casual air with which she spoke the words, it was impossible not to hear the tremor in her voice, or to see how pale her face had gone.

Then, however, her mouth compressed into a thin, determined line. "Okay, Sparky." She pushed herself to her feet. "It's not going to be comfortable, but I _will_ get you out of here." Then, she took an earthbending stance.

With a few quick, precise movements of her fingers, the stone of the floor rose up to encase his whole body. Rock enfolded his legs, wrapped around his torso, and pinned his arms to his sides. Though it wasn't _painfully_ constrictive, he didn't think he'd be able to move at all even if he wanted to (and right at the moment, he _didn't_ particularly want to). By the time she was finished, the only part of his body still exposed to the open air was his face.

"T-Toph, wh-what…"

"Didn't I _just_ tell you to shush?" Her small hand slapped over his mouth even as the restraining layer of rock rose up off of the floor. "I'm making sure I don't hurt you _more_ while I'm moving you, so you don't die and Sugar Queen doesn't kill _me_. Now let's get you out of here."

As Toph was tearing through wall after wall to clear the fastest route to the outside world, Zuko lost consciousness again. This time, he wasn't woken up by any sharp instruments being shoved beneath his skin or cold water being thrown into his face.

* * *

Katara had never _seen_ a human body that had sustained so much damage… or at the very least, this was the first time she'd seen one that was still _alive_.

Even after Azula had struck Aang in the back with lightning, it had been nothing like this. While that had been a devastating attack, and the damage had been horrible, the intention behind it had been to kill, and to do so quickly and efficiently. In this case, the goal had been to cause as much suffering as possible, and to prolong that suffering for as long as possible.

_The intermittent retching was a dull noise in her ears as Katara stared at the contents of the message tube that Aang had just received, marked with the symbol of the New Ozai Society just as the first had been._

_The demands of that message had been simple, and they'd been straightforward: return Ozai's bending, and restore him to the throne. If Aang did as they demanded, Zuko would be returned to them unharmed, but the more he delayed, the longer he would suffer. If anyone attempted to rescue him, he would immediately be killed._

_There was no way Aang could capitulate to their demands. He'd refused. Now, he was emptying his stomach in the next room while Katara stared in horror at the severed finger that had fallen out of the message tube along with a blood-spotted roll of parchment that contained only a single sentence:_

_'_ _You have nine more days to reconsider.'_

_The implication was clear. Even worse, once his captors ran out of fingers to cut off, she had no doubt that Zuko would die: alone, and in terrible pain. So not only did they have to find him, not only did they have to find him discreetly enough to avoid tipping off his kidnappers, they now had a deadline._

_Her increasingly-frantic thoughts were interrupted by the return of Aang. His hands were shaking as he wiped his mouth, and his face still carried a slight tinge of green._

_"_ _What do we_ do? _"_ _he whispered, leaning against the doorframe. The way that his hand clenched against the wood made it look like it was the only thing keeping him upright._

 _"_ _We sit tight, and we wait." She stepped forward, and reached out to rest her hand atop his. "I know it's hard, but we_ have _to trust the others to know what they're doing. If they get any hint that you're trying to find him yourself, they'll kill him."_

 _Between Sokka's genius, Toph's seismic sense, and Suki's skills at stealth, they_ would _find him in time. They_ had _to._

_Nevertheless, when she stepped into Aang's room the next day to find him twisting another message tube between shaking hands, Katara felt the bottom drop out of her stomach and it was all she could do not to scream._

_"_ _Maybe I_ should _do it."_

 _Katara, who'd just opened her mouth to say she didn't even_ know _what, abruptly snapped it shut again. "…what?" When she finally did find her voice, the word came out in a whisper._

 _Aang turned to her then, his gray eyes wide and a look of desperation on his face. "I can't… I can't let Zuko suffer like this! So_ what _if I give Ozai his bending back? I can always just take it away again after all this is over. Zuko is being_ tortured _while we're sitting here doing nothing, and I can make that stop right now, and—"_

 _"_ _Aang._ Aang! _"_

_He ground to a halt, looking back at her with tears in his eyes. Katara reached out to rest a hand on either side of his face._

_"_ These sorts of people don't keep their promises. _I know Zuko is suffering, but if we give them what they want, they have no more reason to keep him alive_ at all _." Her thumbs swiped the skin under his eyes, wiping away his tears. "Besides, suppose you do what they want, and they actually do give Zuko back to us. What do you think will happen the_ next _time someone wants to force the Avatar's hand, and they know in advance that having a hostage will make you cave? This goes beyond just Zuko;_ none _of us or the people we care about will ever be safe again." She pulled away to wipe at her own tears. "I know it's hard, but you have to remember:_ you're _not the one who's doing this to him._ They _are, and they're just_ saying _it's your fault to make you feel guilty. You can't let them win that battle."_

In the end, Katara had been right: Toph _had_ found him, and she _had_ gotten him back to them in time. When Katara got a good look at the extent of Zuko's injuries, though, it was hard to keep consoling herself that they'd done the right thing.

(Later, much later, Zuko would tell her that he had no doubt his captors had been planning to kill him regardless, that they wouldn't be able to afford the threat to the succession, and that even though he'd suffered, Aang's refusal had at least kept him _alive_ long enough to be rescued. That would be later, though, and well after the worst had already passed.)

Now, Katara only felt overwhelmed and guilty. Now, she was working on Zuko with a team of Fire Nation doctors (every one of whom had been personally vetted by Toph), and their primary goal was just to keep him breathing. The other doctors were busy treating the injuries that _could_ be treated with traditional medicine while Katara focused on the internal hurts that were slowly killing him, and which would quickly grow beyond her ability to treat if she didn't start fixing them _right now_.

There was _so much damage_ she barely even knew where to begin. He was dangerously dehydrated, but he'd sustained injuries to his gut that would make it dangerous to give him water until after she'd healed them, and before she could do _that_ she was going to have to—

"Katara, he's crashing again!"

At any other time, the string of profanities that spilled from her mouth would have left everyone around her gaping in shock, and Toph in particular never would have let her live it down. As things were, though, there was only a tense silence as the rest of the team redoubled their efforts and Katara pressed her water to Zuko's chest, willing his heart to keep beating and his lungs to draw breath for _just a few more minutes, he just needed to hold on for a few more minutes_ , because "You did _not_ live through all of that just to die on me now, you are _not_ allowed to die today, do you hear me!?"

Finally, after a few tense minutes, she managed to get him stabilized… _barely_. The tension in Toph's shoulders eased, though she kept her hands pressed firmly to the ground. Katara refocused her healing.

The damage was far too extensive for her to heal it all at once, but what she _did_ manage would have to suffice. Once she'd done as much as she could, she reached for the pitcher that one of the physicians had brought in: water, infused with a precise mixture of salt and sugar. Gently forcing Zuko's jaw open and holding his tongue down with the fingers of one hand, she used the other to draw a small stream of liquid that she bent down his throat and into his stomach—a technique she'd perfected while Aang was in his coma, but had always hoped she'd never have to use again.

Though her first instinct was to bend the whole pitcher into him, Katara also knew the dangers of trying to give too much too fast. He was going to have to take it in many small doses, with a few minutes' break between each. Instead, she consulted quietly with one of the physicians, who made a small, surgical cut in Zuko's side so Katara could use her waterbending to draw out the fluid that had been building up in his abdomen.

They went on like that for the next ten hours or so. Katara would give Zuko a small dose of the liquid, then go back to healing him for a few minutes before giving him another dose. She focused most of her efforts on his internal injuries: first the ones that were immediately life-threatening, then the ones that might not kill him _immediately_ , but still couldn't be healed with traditional medicine alone. It wasn't until she saw that Toph had allowed herself to slump against the wall and sleep that her own tension finally began to ease.

* * *

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn't being tortured anymore.

Granted, he _was_ still in considerable pain. His legs ached, his hand throbbed, and his head was pounding—but he was in a real bed, not chained up or strapped to a chair or a table, he was no longer on the point of passing out, and he was no longer on the brink of wishing they would hurry up and finish him off already just to make the pain _stop_.

Even as he was doing it, he _knew_ it was a terrible idea. Nevertheless, he tried to shift around a bit, just to see how much he could move… and immediately felt a small hand curl against his chest.

"Sparky, if you try to get up, I swear to Oma and Shu I _will_ put you in rock again until you've finished healing."

Zuko blinked his eyes open. "Toph?" he croaked. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"Aside from making sure you don't do anything stupid? Making sure you don't start crashing again so Sugar Queen can rest."

He turned his head. Sure enough, Katara was curled up in the bed to his right, her posture exhausted and her eyes deeply shadowed even in sleep.

"What happened?" he asked—quietly, so as not to wake Katara. She'd already done so much for him, and she looked as if she needed the rest.

"Well," Toph answered, equally quietly, "they were trying not to get caught by taking you underground. They didn't know they were dealing with the greatest earthbender of all time." Her predatory grin was a flash of white teeth in the dark. "After I got you out, I pointed Twinkletoes to where they were hiding. He took Sokka and Suki to go round up the rest of them."

Zuko nodded, then swallowed. That Aang and the others were on it was a huge relief, but there was one more question he knew he had to ask, even though he was dreading the answer. "Kiyi?"

"Kicking and screaming and demanding to get her big brother back, but otherwise fine." Toph shrugged. "Don't think they were all that interested in her, really, since she's not in line for the throne." Toph grinned wolfishly. "Sokka was the one trying to keep her distracted while you were getting fixed up, and she set his pants on fire. He spent the next ten minutes yelling that he was never, ever having kids—and that he hoped she was happy with herself for making that impossible anyway."

In spite of himself, Zuko snorted. "I bet he _loved_ that." Immediately after, however, his voice grew more sober. "Can I see her?" He knew it was silly, but he had to see for himself that she was okay.

"In the morning, Sparky." Yawning, Toph reached out to pat him on the chest—a lot more gently than her normal friendly punches. "Her parents barely got her to settle down and go to sleep as is."

Well, he supposed that that was only fair. It was hard enough to get Kiyi to settle down at the best of times, but under circumstances like these… Letting his eyes slip closed, he did his best to go back to sleep.

* * *

In all honesty, Katara still wasn't sure about this. They'd done the best they could, but the fact of the matter was that Zuko was a _mess_ , and as far as she was concerned, no child should ever have to see a loved one in that sort of condition. At this point, though, Katara had also had to accept that that wasn't her decision to make: he'd asked to see her and she'd asked to see him, Kiyi's parents had given her the go-ahead, and even if it _was_ cruel to strip away a child's innocence at such a young age, she couldn't convince herself that it would be kinder to force apart a sister and a brother for any but the most dire of reasons. She considered how _she_ would have reacted to someone telling her she wasn't allowed to see Sokka when _he_ was hurt, and knew that she would have to accept the family's judgment on this matter.

That didn't mean she couldn't still have misgivings.

"Remember," she started, kneeling down so she was on Kiyi's eye level. "Zuko was really badly hurt, so he's not going to look too great right now. He's also still healing, so you're going to have to be extra gentle with him. I know you're anxious to see him, but you can't slam into him, or jump on top of him, or even _hug_ him too hard. Do you think you can do that?"

Kiyi crossed her arms, and in spite of herself Katara had to fight the urge to burst out laughing and the expression of childish affront on her face. "Of _course_ I can do that," she huffed. "I'm not a _baby_."

"Of course you're not." Katara straightened back up to her full height, somehow still managing to keep a straight face, and reached down to take Kiyi's hand.

The second the door was open, Kiyi yanked her hand out of Katara's and rushed into the room with a cry of "Zuzu!" Katara stiffened and moved a hand to the mouth of her waterskin, ready to use a bit of gentle bending to pull the child back if that was what it took to keep her from jumping on him, but as it turned out, she needn't have worried: Kiyi skidded to a halt by the edge of Zuko's bed and tilted her head back to look up at him with wide eyes.

Katara hadn't lied: Zuko _did_ look awful. While the majority of the bruises, stitches, and half-healed burns were thankfully either bandaged up or under the sheets, as were the braces that held his broken legs immobile, there was no hiding the rainbow of discoloration on the unscarred side of his face, nor the thick bandages around the hand that now had two fewer fingers than it was supposed to. Katara braced herself, ready to escort Kiyi out of the room if she burst into tears (for La's sake she was barely even _six_ ) and already rehearsing what she might need to say in order to calm her down, but much to her surprise, Kiyi did not start crying. Instead, she slowly lifted her hand, in which she was holding…

"Would you like to hold Kiyi?" She asked the question with all the solemnity of a mother offering up her newborn baby. "It always makes me feel better to hold her when I'm sick."

"I would love to," Zuko answered, just as seriously.

"I wouldn't give Kiyi to just anyone, you know," the girl continued with an almost disturbing degree of haughtiness as she placed the doll in Zuko's uninjured hand. "So be sure you're careful with her."

"Of course." As he curled his fingers gently around the doll, his gaze moved up to meet Katara's eyes where she was leaning against the doorframe and smiling.

"Welcome home, Zuko. It's good to have you back."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I actually made it! And this is the final entry on my card, so I did my best to give this series a good send-off.
> 
> And I hate to say this, but I'm afraid the hiatus on _Holding Hearts_ is going to have to go on a little bit longer. It's not like I don't have plans and I even know exactly where I want the story to go, I've just been in a really bad limbo situation for the past year and more and I'm having a lot of difficulties with writing right now. Thank you for understanding, and I will pick it up again whenever the time is right.


End file.
